MaxH

Interesting characterization. An independent online absinthe forum has become much busier than it was seven years ago (in 2000, before all this sudden interest, my Google searches on "absinthe" surfaced maybe five relevant hits). I mentioned it to a longtime student of absinthe, who characterized that forum nowadays as mostly goth people.

Yes. I think we were pleasantly surprised at the general state of these wines. (Note that the wines were ideally stored and the tasters were experienced, most with 25 or more years evaluating and buying such wines.) Some wines seemed to me maybe near peak drinkability, though I recall none in urgent need of it. The de Vogüé displayed youthful tannin and acid, I'd guess it has years of life. In my notes I marked the Groffier, Méo, Roumier, Rousseau, and Rochioli especially enjoyable right now (a thesis we confirmed afterward with some food and the leftover wines). It's gratifying to see a wine (the Groffier, which I provided) deliver what it seemed to promise when young. I believe the same tasting group evaluated these 1998s and others, 6-7 years ago when first available.

Current look at nine red Burgundies from 1998, an uneven vintage that when young seemed sometimes well structured, sometimes (as an experienced observer summed it up) blunt. Tenth wine was 1998 Rochioli West Block Pinot Noir (Russian River Valley). Wines furnished by participants who bought them when new on the market circa 2000-2001 and stored them well. These wines are from good producers, and many proved to be drinking very well now. Tasted blind after siphoning (11 experienced tasters). Below is from my tasting notes in descending group blind preference. (Each person does a rough ranking; these are combined, which can cause ties, as in 5th/6th and 8th/9th places below. None of these wines was found defective or unpleasant -- the rankings are relative preferences.) "T" marks my taste impressions, following smell impressions. 1998 Groffier Bonnes-Mares. (Group's and my 1st favorite.) Firm red color. Aromas open slowly (as with several of these). Coffee suggesting high toast. T classic Nuits structure, high toast, anise, tannin partly resolved, fine fruit with still young touches. Drinking very well. 1998 J. Rochioli West Block. (Most of us detected this as the ringer, but also liked it.) Unusual nose in this company. Intense spicy cherry. Impression of relative youth or fruit. Wood spice. T mouthfilling fruit, young raw wood. Low acid. A candied or concentrated fruit impression. (Some said they caught Brett.) 1998 Méo-Camuzet Clos Vougeot. (My 2nd favorite.) Distinct pitfruit smells [plums/cherries]. Young impression. Bright fruit. T fine classic structure, mature flavors, agreeable. Coffee, chocolate. 1998 Anne Gros Richebourg. (Group 4th but I didn't like it as much -- my 8th.) Very faint at first. Sour apple smells. [some said "floral."] Strange. T coffee, aldehydes, well mineraled, relatively low acid. (Note that this was the most expensive wine tasted.) 1998 Roumier Chambolle-Musigny "Les Cras." (Group 5th/6th choice, my 3rd.) Sulfurous truffle impression. T aged flavors, herbality, well made. Concentrated, classy. 1998 Rousseau Gevrey-Chambertin "Clos St. Jacques." (Group 5th/6th, my 4th.) Very faint at first. Toast. Anise comes out after a while. T tart edge, solid core, orange peel. 1998 de Vogüé Bonnes Mares. (My 5th, group 7th.) Very faint nose initially. Almost brewer's-yeast smell. T surprising firm acid and tannin, hot, impression of less development than some of these. Good structure. 1998 Rouget Echézeaux. (Group 8th/9th, my 7th.) Young color. Plummy and orange smells. Odd barnyard, musty. T hot, strong acid. 1998 Lafarge Volnay Vendanges Séléctionées. (Group 8th/9th, my 10th or least favorite.) Very faint, sour cherry, almost mildewy smells. T solid structure, youngish, sour cherries. ($40 at purchase with tax, least expensive of these wines.) 1998 Jadot Bonnes-Mares. (Group 10th, my 9th.) Savory/truffly and Cherry Heering woodspice nose. Pickles. T gamy note, mushrooms, anise coating the mouth faintly, mature flavors. Less concentrated than some of these.

I think that depends on whose perspectives you mean, mickey. All the hard data I posted in this thread came from meanstream sources* whose upshots (relative toxicities, thujone consumed in other herbs, even absent from some commercial absinthes) have been public for between 60 and 100 years. Yet as recently as last spring, an absinthe article in the New Yorker missed most of these points, emphasizing instead the recent hobbyist and manufacturer buzz which includes some of the old misconceptions while complaining about others. People have been trying to demystify absinthe for decades (see Grossman's books cited in another thread Here). *USFDA data, standard scientific references, and absinthe literature reprinted in popular modern writing.

Following SBonner's good example, my comments in separate mark-up color (green).

An amazing story. In the Bay Area a couple of years ago, after the fire I think, a reputable wine warehouser posted press articles conveying longstanding concerns about that type of (and that specific) wine-storage business, which was based on checking in a certain bottle with the promise of getting the same wine back later, the bottle being handled meantime by the firm. Of course, that leaves open a mechanism for a warehouser to sell the bottle, use the capital, and buy back an "identical" bottle later on the market on demand. Like banks using deposited capital, keeping only a fraction in reserve. I gather that was what happened. With such a scheme, even if all the wine were returned, its owners wouldn't know provenance, storage history, even authenticity of the bottles they got back. (I also know Marin IW&FS and Jack Rubyn, a good man and reputable organization, does wine-education and charitable activities. Exploited shamelessly in this scam apparently.)

Haven't read full article, but the excerpts above don't make plain just what in all this is "new?" Paul Fussell commented acidly about similar behavior a quarter century ago in his popular best-seller, citing Diane Johnson's then-recent review of 24 food books and cookbooks in the New York Review of Books. " 'Here eating is not the thing,' " Johnson is quoted. Instead the books stress "anxiety," fear that the host's position "may not really be securely anchored" (Fussell, who goes on with many little examples).

Separate "Pastis" thread has formal definitions of the word from standard sources, Grossman's US reference book Here and a standard French gastronomic encyclopedia Here.

Summary of 1988 Anglophone Larousse Gastronomique entry (standard French food-drink encyclopedia -- and the earliest edition of this book I've checked that explains the term): Pastis is a south-of-France idiom for anise-flavored strong drinks along the lines of "the famous Pernod in the north" and no longer based on the absinthe "that originally made this type of apéritif distinctive." Word is local dialect for "confused" or "mixed" (alluding to the clouding when the water dilutes the liquor). Locals "will spend hours sipping pastis while watching the local game of boule or petanque." Ricard and Berger as representative brands. That's consistent with use of word "pastis" that I've heard from Europeans over the years. (Suppositions about it being a specific liquor, or a class that excludes absinthes, I've seen only relatively recently, on Internet postings not originating in France.)

Great pix there, rjwong. FWIW, for a while it was less commercial than they are. Around 2003-2004 or so, before all the current vendors were in place, it was lightly attended. (The woman at the Cowgirl Creamery stand looks familiar, I think she's worked also at the creamery itself up north.) So if I understand right, the lunch was at what we locals call Chez Panisse Café (CPC). (As in the mainstream Bay Area dining guide from the SF Chronicle food critic a few years ago with its two separate reviews, CP and CPC).

Russ Parsons mentioned the review's challenges to the writer, and Charles S. began this thread asking to pare it to the bone. These are refined considerations, compared to what I and some others have complained about -- gross problems like factual errors that are easy to avoid. (More annoying when a writer waxes poetic while making them.) Not that I actually advocate doing so, but in principle, one step to reducing that problem would be to close Wikipedia. The next would be to shut down the Internet. Then we would have less of questions formerly answered, mysteries formerly solved, that become "unsolved again." (The relationship of the sandwich to the Earl of Sandwich comes to mind, because I'm hungry.)

Like what happened to "truffle" in the 1980s. When fewer people heard about it from cooking sources like the Joy of Cooking* as chocolate truffles also were gaining popularity. (And production of real black truffles had been gradually declining too.) -- *Charming anecdote in a popular edition had a nearly deaf grocer. Asked if he had any truffles he answered philosophically, "Yes, but who doesn't?"

-- so far has public science education declined, I guess :-) ... I will say that what I first picked up in balsam is not uncommon in other scents, especially things aged in wood. But also curious about where this term has appeared in wine descriptions.

Resinous. As in balsam of Tolu, Canada balsam, balsamic vinegar. (I first encountered balsam as a resinous adhesive in a tincture form, used to attach cover glass to microscope slides in the chemistry sets so popular in the rash of "science education" that swept the US for some years after Sputnik. Will probably never forget that plant-resin smell, and it seems apt sometimes for wine.) Edited to add: Correction! I just looked up balsamic vinegar out of curiosity, and at least one authority says that particular idiom came from the ancient "balm" (as in healthful medicine) which is a variant word for balsam. Vinegar does have some medicinal history. Learn something new every day! (Thanks, Mary.) Still I always had the impression wood aging puts some sap into balsamic vinegar too, making the term maybe doubly apt? Also, Greek retsina wine is named for the resin that came to flavor it (originally by accident, I understand); I haven't tasted retsina but would guess it might qualify as "balsamic."

Data point: I have one classic mixology book originally from the 19th century, revised a few times; from the publication history in it, what really made the book take off was Prohibition. (Which also raised US average alcohol consumption, increased the number of saloons, killed the rapidly developing wine industry, subsidized organized crime, etc etc.) Also, don't forget Prohibition was not just a US experiment, it was an international trend. Other countries also did it around the same time. And then repealed it later.

Hi eje, "70 degrees Proof" or "70 Proof" are just conventional alternatives to the formal language "70 percent Proof spirits" and there in turn (it won't be news to some avid readers here) "Proof" is used in the sense of "test" (proof of the pudding, exception that proves the rule) and the traditional "test" was whether gunpowder wet with the liquor would burn, which happens at around half alcohol. (A dramatic example of a field assay test using available materials; there are others.) I've seen older chemical bottles with industrial mineral acids graded in degrees Baumé (a specific-gravity measure). Degrees Brix (for sugar) is common winemaker lingo in measuring grape juice.

The post about China reminded me that the first true modern absinthe I tasted (25 years ago) was from that part of the world. I have that brand and know it well, it was one I listed to eje in the Pastis thread here. Here's some information about it, amplifying what I posted elsewhere in 2001. (The Versinthe sold in China might be different, possibly.) I saw Versinthe appear in US around early 2000 and researched it. The manufacturer (Liquoristerie de Provence) had (and has) a good English-language Web site as linked below (containing the typo error "45% proof" where it means "45% alcohol," not 45% Proof Spirits). Documentation from the manufacturer at the time indicated that Versinthe was fully legal in US and France, meaning it had only trace thujone content and very limited A. absinthium (common wormwood). The unusual angle was that it also claimed to use further wormwood-related mugwort herbs of genus Artemisia. Liquoristerie de Provence English-language Web pages

Yes and (as I put it in the absinthe thread recently) if you see my larger point, which really is larger than the topic of this thread, a title clashing with a famous predecessor on the same subject creates at least a morsel of implied tension. (This situation has come up a lot lately, so I notice it.) A dramatic example: In 1989 (?) the Atlantic Monthly ran a long and detailed article "The Cholesterol Myth," examining ways (some experts were arguing) cholesterol as a health topic had been oversold. The article created the largest volume of letters in the venerable magazine's history, some of them printed in later issues. (Article was illustrated with parody cartoons -- light bulbs advertised for low cholesterol, etc.) Nine or 10 years later, a popular book appeared, titled The Cholesterol Myths, with (if I remember right) no connection to the magazine article, but also, no reference to it in the considerable bibliography. Now (as Fat guy mentioned in a similar but milder food-book case a couple years ago), the choice may be the publisher's. Or an unconscious inspiration. But it creates an implicit tension. (Did the author -- writing as an authority, remember -- know the earlier famous work? If not, why not? If so, why omit?)

Ditto Mimi Sheraton's 1965 German cookbook; some other modern books I checked from Germany don't even include this type of cake. It's novel to me too, and sounds like an interesting bit of culinary information. (The more standard version Ludja cites was a favorite cake in my home on occasions when I was growing up.) FYI my experience with these cakes is completely, or almost completely, in the US (and they were more common, in my region anyway, before about 1970) but always a specific format -- cherries, chocolate cake layers, whipped cream, chocolate shavings. You can still order them from good bakers today, but they stress that this cake doesn't keep long, with all that whipped cream.

Thanks for the thoughtful comments, chromedome. Please note that this behavior (the same I witnessed and reported above) is embraced under "snobbery" and "denigration" upthread. You and I though (and others, I think) know the reality we experienced.FYI datawise: First, complaint of US oaky Chardonnay "craze" is one point in this thread not projected from an armchair. It's a summary of comments I read widely in US wine writing (which I have a pretty good memory for -- remember? -- and originals too), early 1980s. US retail market was then sustaining unexpected USD $20-$25 prices for fairly heavy yellow Chardonnays matching chromedome's description (= circa $50 in current USD) and literally hundreds were coming to market. Strong prices bespoke consumer demand. Secondly, Mâcon-Villages from major négociants (Jadot, Drouhin, etc.) are among most widely distributed moderately-priced white French wines worldwide. I've seen them in wine shops in Europe, Asia, and all over North America (including at most supermarkets I've checked in California, around $10-$12). They likely are many people's introduction to white Burgundies. I cite this in the interest of accuracy. These wines have been common in the US for the 30 years I've watched, longer than most US wineries have made unoaked Chardonnays, hence the obvious historical sequencing I quipped earlier. (I honestly wasn't sure then if the assertion "Most white Burgundy is 'oaked' Chardonnay" was at all serious, in view of the history of California Chards being so often oakier.)

It seems to've worked for wine.

A side point from the flow of this thread so far, but maybe of interest among fans of food books: Speaking of "alternate universes," I hope that the professional reviews of this book spelled out right away that it isn't (as I first thought, seeing this thread) related to Secret Ingredients: The Magical Process of Combining Flavors (Michael Roberts, Bantam, 1988, ISBN 0553053205) -- which created such interest, including online, including mentions on this site. Vanilla extract's effect on lobster, and all that. I even heard about the book on the radio. An important title, maybe, in what's now a crowded genre on the hidden science of foods, but wasn't in 1988. (Roberts even seems to be one of the people to document the trick of making a "roux" by separately cooking the flour and then adding the fat -- a home version of industrial sauce making.) This sort of thing comes up when titles get re-used, especially titles that created buzz.

As you say, we have considerable range of Chinese food in the San Francisco area (more, it seems, than many locals explore) yet what's interesting is a tendency always to include a sort of Generic Gringo Chinese Menu (through which, drop-in diners order "lemon chicken filet" in a local place legendary for its fresh chow fun, for which the customers followed the proprietress through three different locations in 15 years). This speaks to larger questions about how people approach new restaurants. Do they order their old favorites, or do they ask into the restaurant's favorite dishes? Some fine small individualistic Chinese restaurants in SF area have famous specialties printed only on Chinese menus. Forewarned, you can bring in a note of the ideograph, and order (they're generally willing to take anyone's money if it comes down to that) but what may be more interesting is why. Gringos complain (in my experience) more about the prejudice "you won't like that" than about the reality behind it: that most gringos don't like it, thus teaching the restaurant to advise them so, for the bottom line.

A quick look at their website, with its cartoon faeries, shows how "sincere" they are about that.I've also seen statements -- by absinthe hobby groups, and in at least published versions of Breaux comments -- proclaiming opposition to myth, yet selective in the practice. I don't say or assume though that it's conscious and therefore insincere. (Intuitions and ideologies often develop whose limits are plain only from outside, so to speak, or via reality tests.) Nor am I the one to ask about absinthe taste tests (one thing the hobby sites do well, by the way). Preferring the flavors of other drinks (malt whiskys, wines) over these and the pastis family mentioned in the other thread. (I'm more of a connoisseur, not always voluntarily, of technical notions cultivated by hobby enclaves. A side story of 25 years of public Internet fora.)

If people try to reconstitute thujone-rich absinthe by adding complete wormwood extract to a thujone-free absinthe, they make a fundamental error. The result has Absinthin (extremely bitter) which traditional absinthe doesn't (for at least two separate reasons in the processing!). No need for archives: I tasted wormwood extract years ago, before any of this publicity. So vividly, lingeringly bitter it was like a look through a terrible door into an unimagined dark pit of the flavor universe. (I don't recommend the experience.) Yes that's standard botanical data (also quoted in Baggott's popular 1997 online summary). Essence or "oil" of wormwood will appear, diluted, in a commercial extract. Parallel situation with sage has a similar, slightly lower thujone content in its oil.Do you see my main point though, eje? Data contradict an artificial intuition surrounding thujone. This intuition lets people perceive thujone as "toxic" more than caffeine or other natural ingredients equally "toxic" but common in much higher doses and even despite accompaniment by alcohol in strengths not comparably "toxic" but actually hundreds of times more so.